


tea and coffee, eggs and bacon

by llgf



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Blind Date, F/M, I don't know what's happening, Past Relationship(s), as usual, blame Katherine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 11:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13635663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llgf/pseuds/llgf
Summary: She could only blame Katherine. “A blind date,” she had said, “the best way to get over a guy, is another guy,” and she had planned it with two quick phone calls.Enzo was the guy, all broody, smirk and British accent, but most importantly, late. He wasn’t here when she arrived at their table that night.It wasn’t the reason why her nails dug in her palm though. It was Klaus Mikaelson, British man with a temper and eternal stains of paint on his hands, her ex boyfriend, her ex more than that, who was accompanied by a blonde, both seated at the table right next to hers.





	tea and coffee, eggs and bacon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klarolineagainnaturally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klarolineagainnaturally/gifts).



> for klarolineagainnaturally! your prompt was: both set up on (valentines) blind dates with different people. Their tables are next to each other’s. End up making snide comments at each other and their dates etc etc.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!
> 
> it was beta’ed by the amazing firefeufuego

Caroline’s red nails scrape his throat and her other hand pulls at his tie, bringing his lips to her. It’s deja-vu, kissing in the dark, hidden, his body flushed against hers. She’s missed it.

Still, she didn’t expect to hear herself moaning at his lips on her throat ever again, the sweater and memories she threw in a box, gathering dust in a closet, were proof enough of that. But his fingers, his eyes, his dimples and sweet sweet words, the sweeter the words, the more obvious  his dimples they always manage to tear any rancor out of her heart. It’s still there, but only in her frantic movements and kisses, begging to bring him closer.

She could only blame Katherine. “A blind date.” She had said. “The best way to get over a guy is another guy,” and she had planned it with two quick phone calls.

Enzo was the guy, all broody smirk and British accent, but most importantly,  _ late.  _ He wasn’t there when she arrived at their table that night.

That wasn’t the reason why her nails dug in her palm though. Instead, it was another British man, Klaus Mikaelson, with a temper and eternal paint stains on his hands, her ex boyfriend, her ex  _ more than that _ , who was, at that moment, accompanied by a blonde, both seated at the table right next to hers.

Her ex- _ everything _ , who used to kiss her neck while whispering praises and sketch her when she was tangled in his sheet, was right here, looking at her with his big blue eyes.

When he did, she felt like all the patrons stopped eating, talking only to look at her and laugh.

“Klaus,” Caroline said, trying to conceal the surprise and anger, but some must have spat out with her words because he was looking at her with a slight frown.

“Caroline, what are you doing here?”

Caroline raised her chin and answered proudly, “I have a date.” She enjoyed how his jaw flexed, how he wet his lips and unconsciously touched his tie - one she’d given him - and she didn’t miss how he looked her up and down. That was what he deserved, to look at her as if she was a sculpture he couldn’t touch, not anymore.

It had been an ugly breakup.  _ Ugly  _ because it had hurt her, left a bad taste in her mouth. Neither of them had tried hard enough. Klaus had been a stone wall, walls so high she hadn't been able to climb them. Caroline had kept up her pretty façade, so well made not even Klaus could see through it. They hadn't been honest with each other. He hadn't said a word when he had had problems with his family, and she hadn't admitted a thing when life got too tough. So eventually, they had stopped talking at all. Kisses and promises hadn’t been enough to fix the foundations, and they had called it quits. 

“So am I,” he replied.

“Nice to meet you,” the blonde girl across from him said. He did have a type. “I’m Cami.”

“Caroline.” She tried to be sweet. Really, this girl had nothing to do with their hostility, but Caroline’s smile was still fake. “Enjoy your dinner.”

She decided to sit down without another word and asked for a glass of wine immediately, not waiting for her date, to swallow down her deepest thoughts. Jealousy was a bitch that needed to be drowned in red wine.

But Klaus kept sneaking glances at her, wearing that  _ stupid  _ smirk, because of course, she was annoyed. He must have read it on her face, or in how her fingers were tapping on her glass. She had already eaten five or ten breadsticks  __ by the time Enzo arrived.

It was worth if only for how quickly he lost his smile. Enzo kissed her knuckles and Caroline peeked at Klaus, who was straightening his tie. When he started talking, however, she knew that if she noticed his accent, Klaus must have too. Indeed, his eyebrows were up and his mouth devilishly smiling.

But even the accent couldn’t bring her to focus on Enzo, and it wasn’t long before her date was just a blurry image in the foreground because she was too focused on Klaus, the champagne bubbles in his glass, the liquid the same color as his date’s hair. That pang of jealousy - still alive in the sea of wine - manifested itself when Caroline forcefully stabbed her salmon with her fork.  

“Are you okay?” Enzo asked.

She nodded, her famous smile plastered on her face. She tried to focus on her date, really she did, but was Klaus talking so loudly on purpose or was it only her?

She snorted when she heard him compliment himself and he sent her a dark glare. Klaus started talking about difficult relationships, how it had  _ broken  _ him and Caroline snorted again, because he’d never acted like a broken man, and that’s something they have in common. They raise their chins high and keep walking. They wore their fake smiles and said “I’m fine” when they weren’t. (She might have a mental list of things that didn’t work between them.)

The salmon didn’t look as appetizing anymore, Caroline realized as she started playing with her fork.

She had a flicker of a thought, it could have been him in front of her, and she would already have taken off her shoe to brush his ankle, and he would smile, all dimples and dark eyes.

“ - don’t you think?” Enzo asked, elbows on the table and looking at her expectantly. 

“ _ What? _ ” Caroline said, caught off guard. 

“I was talking about the weather.” 

And Caroline would have noticed that he was annoyed if she hadn’t been listening to Klaus’ laugh - he shouldn’t be laughing while she was miserable. 

So she smiled at Enzo, trying to get into the conversation. He was handsome and  _ he had a British accent _ , but she could only feel Klaus’ gaze on her. So instead of keeping on playing with her salmon, she excused herself with a small smile.

She didn’t go to the bathroom, but took the exit door to take a breath of fresh air.

“You have a type.” She heard Klaus say before the door closed with a thump. “British? A bit cocky?”

Caroline turned her head briefly, finding she couldn’t look at him for too long before memories, the box, the sweet words and the post-its of her sleeping face he left on his pillow, hit her in the face. “It was a blind date, I had no idea.”

“Do you like him?”

She turned around quickly, with a frown on her face. She wanted to say  _ yes _ , hoping to see him shatter into pieces. But there was no smile, only sad eyes, always grey when he was unhappy.

They were both responsible for their breakup, but Caroline could only blame him, otherwise she would be the one in pieces.

She decided to dodge the question. “I could say the same to you. Blonde with blue eyes. You have a type, Mikaelson.”

He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you like him?”

“Do you like her?” She retorted aggressively.

Klaus shrugged, his hands in his pocket, kicking the pebbles on the ground. “I have someone else in mind,” he admitted with a low voice.

Her cheeks burned. Klaus lowered his face and looked at her through his eyelashes, just like he asked her for a date the first time they met.

They were happy together because they didn’t talk about what was happening outside of their bubble. But it pops every time.

“Me too,” she said lowly.  She could only blame her usual blatant honesty exaggerated by the wine, freeing her lips and words.

She could blame his big eyes and smile for the stutter of her heart. She could blame the alcohol again for the few steps she took towards him. When his hand stroked the curve of her jaw, Caroline realized that the memory of his touch had never disappeared. She couldn’t put it in the box.

That’s how she’s ended up here, pushing him in a corner, kissing his lips and letting his hands roam her body. She had missed it.

Caroline moans when he kisses her throat and laughs when he says, “I’ve missed that sound.” He might be still talking, about how he missed her skin, which always smells of sweet almond, or her hair, soft between his fingers. He might be, but Caroline is too focused on his hands and lips, and how she’s trying to take off his tie, just so she can run her hand over his neck and back.

It’s so easy to fall back into his embrace, she has never quite forgotten him, which the heart emoji next to his name in her phone can attest to, but she hasn’t forgiven him either. Caroline just decides to let it go for tonight.  _ She’ll give them tonight _ , and if she finds herself incapable of leaving his bed and arms, then she’ll tell him to prepare tea and coffee, eggs and bacon, and they’ll talk. Maybe reopen that old box.

Inside, it’s small talk, wine and breadsticks. Cami is chewing one, and Enzo finishes another glass of wine. 

Caroline still manages to push him back, “wait, wait, wait,” she repeats, “they’re still in there.”

“And?” he says, before kissing below her ear.

Caroline laughs, because the role of conscience she used to play in their relationship came back as soon as he put his hands on her - like how she could recite Juliette’s lines from her high school play when she smelled roses. “We need to tell them.”

“No, we don’t,” he shrugs, delving right back for her naked collarbone.

“Yes, we do,” she pushes him away from her once more, her hands firm on his chest, both slightly panting. Klaus’ shirt is open, his skin wet in certain spots, and lust written all over him, so she says, “and afterwards, you’ll bring me home,” she approaches him, grabs his shirt, “you’ll offer me something to drink, and I’ll say yes. You’ll grab two glasses of wine but they’ll stay empty because you’ll be so eager to undress me,” Caroline keeps talking while buttoning up his shirt, “and yada yada yada.”

“Tell me more about this yada yada yada, love.”

“A few months without me and you already need new sex lessons, Mikaelson?”

“You know I don’t.”

“Well, let’s ditch our dates,” she raises a finger, “politely. And then you’ll prove it to me.” Caroline deliberately bites her lip - a quirk she knows he loves.

Klaus takes her hand, his impatience obvious in the way he leads her back inside.

He tries to kiss her once more, but Caroline pushes him away with a giggle. It might not have worked out with her date, but it doesn’t mean she can openly make out with her ex-boyfriend in front of him. Enzo is probably a good guy, oblivious to her wandering mind during dinner. She straightens her dress, ready to lie, to tell him that she’s not feeling well, that she’d better go home, but there’s no one at her table, or Klaus’ either. They’re gone. In fact, the restaurant is half empty. Only men in suits, escaping their family home with another drink, a couple, devouring each other eyes instead of their dinner. 

Enzo’s napkin is thrown on his chair probably in annoyance, their plates half finished. “Lucky us,” she hears Klaus say, and he grabs her hand once again.

Caroline won’t let him kiss her in the cab driving to his apartment, but her hand will never leave his. Once in his flat, Klaus will follow her predictions, but he won’t even have the time to grab wine glasses before Caroline’s lips are on his. He’ll undress her, slowly, to rediscover the skin he has never really forgotten. He will brush her nipple and say, “I miss drawing the curve of your breast,” and she’ll moan and laugh at his words. He will draw waves and flowers with his fingers on her heated skin, he will draw circles and eternity sign on her sex while she’ll outline his body with her nails.

Their moans and limbs will tangle, heavy with desire, and their trembling bodies will come like a shockwave, until they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning, she’ll wake up alone, confused before she smells coffee and bacon. Caroline’ll take his shirt and join him in the kitchen, where he’ll flip the bacon and give her a kiss. 

“‘Morning,” he’ll say. On the table, there’ll be tea and coffee, eggs and bacon, and an old box they’ll empty only to fill it again.

 


End file.
